Any other horse would have broken his leg or fallen from exhaustion but Shadowmere seemed as possessed to reach his master as Lana. The black steed seemed to morph around her in the darkness, the usual churning monstrosity of flesh and hair conformed to her body. Occasionally she'd feel the scurry of vermin moving across her leg, but found nothing when she turned to examine.
For a few moments she thought she'd loser the reigns, fall to the ground and die before she'd reach Lucien. When this happened the horse would shift and almost caress her, as if he needed her to survive this. Finally the cabin came into view, the lights in the window sparkling in the darkest night. With her heart in her throat she rounded the edge of the property and approached towards a lean-to where she could hide Shadowmere from the road.
The sliver of moonlight made the strange horses visible only once she'd cleared the side of Applewatch. The steeds were still wearing expensive saddles, dark and muted so as not to gather attention. Panic filled her body; she knew this had to be the surviving members of the Black Hand. Sliding off Shadowmere, her feet made contact with the gravel and her knees threatened to give out. Once she'd regained her balance she jumped onto the porch, moving through a fog of fear and anxiety.
The door swung open and black figures parted, turning to reveal a corpse hanging from the ceiling, the skin stripped from his body. The sight crippled her, making Lana to the ground in horror. Nothing in the fetid basement could compare to seeing her lover dangling from a meat hook like a deer. Even the worst murder she participated in never came close to strangling her heart the way this did. Doubt about whose body it was flicked through her mind only briefly, she knew him to well, every inch irrevocably transcribed into her brain. There would never be another Lucien, she would never be happy again.
"Silencer." A tall Altmer stood out from the group, her golden skin shining under her cloak. "I am glad you have made it. I am Arquen and while we have not met I am sure you as glad to see me, as I am you. At last Lucien's LaChance's lies have been revealed and he has been punished. No longer will your hand be used in error."
No words escaped Lana's mouth, just a strangled breath full of misery and befuddlement. On her hands and knee's she crept towards the corpse, one of the men in black speaking words only she could hear. "Like an unholy vision of beauty, she greaves."
Ignoring him, she continued to creep, until her hands rested on Lucien's bloodied cheeks. Shaking, she leaned in and planted a final kiss on his stripped lips, his blood soaking into her own. Blinded by her tears, she brushed the side of her face against his and whispered: "If only I were faster. I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry. Our child will never know you and it breaks my heart."
A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to see a Breton staring down at her. Sympathy played across his face as he helped her up, pulling her close as she continued to mourn. "He played us all child. I know this has to be hard; he used your heart as well as your body. Trust there is a reason for all of this."
"Mathieu, steady her as we ride to Bravil." Arquen's lack of compassion made Lana grow bitter towards the Mer.
"Let me clean the blood from her face first," Mathieu said. "We will raise enough eyebrows riding into town this time of night, best we don't garner more attention from a woman with a bloody face."
"Very well. Tend to her as you see fit but we need to leave shortly. I want to open the Night Mother's tomb under darkest shadow."
With these words, three members of the black hand stepped outside, leaving them alone with the corpse of Lucien. Unaffected by the grim sight, Mathieu walked to a water basin and dipped a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. The dainty lace on it seemed more fitting to a woman, striking Lana as peculiar but the detail soon drowned out as her attention once again turned to her lover's body.
The tears had dried up when she realized what fools the rest of the Black Hand were. One amongst them would prove to be traitor, but she couldn't determine who just yet. Stiffening herself, she clinched her stomach and fought to control the spasms that shook her frame. No time to cry or be ill. She used the oozing stab wounds of her beloved's body to strengthen her resolve to destroy the man who did this.
When Mathieu rejoined her, touching the cold water to her wind chapped face, she continued to stare at the corpse, fire burning in her eyes. Her stern glare drew the Speaker's attention and he followed her eyes to see what kept her so raptly alert. "Truly a thing of beauty. The ripped flesh, the random pattern of stab wounds, it speaks to you doesn't it? Death holds such cruel majesty, I am glad you see it as well."
Turning away, Lana twitched her nose and tried not to show that Mathieu tipped his hand. The passage in the journal about claiming her for his gave his actions away. Mathieu's ministrations, the kind gestures of a concerned brother, would bond him to her if she weren't suspicious. How noble he seemed, cleaning her face, running the cool cloth under her puffy eyes, politely ignoring the cracks in her lips from the cold night air.
Thankfully in his agonizing death, Lucien hadn't betrayed her. He'd kept the secret of her searching the Anvil LightHhouse to spare her from a similar fate. Emotion threatened to come to the forefront, but Lana squelched it, least she take his gift for granted. Closing her eyes she inhaled and settled her mind, noticing a familiar scent coming from the traitor.
"Your cologne is unusual," she remarked. Opening her eyes slowly she noticed how her words brought a boyish smile from Mathieu.
"I'm glad you noticed. I spent quite a bit on it."
"It smells like Lucien's." A frown spread across the man's face and she let it sit for a moment. Good that he should feel uneasy. Let him wonder what she knew. Fuck him that he'd sought out the perfumer that provided a smell her partner had specially made for himself. Still, she needed him to betray his treachery to the fools outside, least she and her child perish.
"A common scent I'm sure. Perhaps the shock of tonight has left me sensitive. Females are sentimental creatures, after all. Your kindness means so much, Brother. I will not forget it."
Confidence grew within him at the belief she had fallen for his trick. Mathieu helped her up from her seat and lead her outside to his horse. Dismissing Shadowmere under Arquen's orders, she flinched when she felt the real monster climb up behind her and wrap his arms around her body. "Please lean against me Silencer. It is obvious you're exhausted from your riding. Consider me a pillar on which you may depend."
Smooth. Following his suggestion she leaned back against the Breton's chest, letting the smell of his cologne relax her. She needed as much rest as she could. A murder would happen soon. Mathieu would pay and she would stand justified before the other fools. How these people had risen to such important positions made Lana wonder if the Dark Brotherhood had reached its peak long before she joined.
Standing at the base of The Lucky Lady, Lana laughed that favorite statue represented the woman she'd spent her time in servitude of. In her heart she formed a poem to the night mother, and bore it though her nose on the edge of the wind, least ungrateful ears hear her reverence.
Oh Night Mother,
Bless you for the things you have brought to me
And damn you for the things you have taken away.
I pray someday I will reunite with my heart,
In Sithis' cold center.
Grant me justice
And I shall grant you souls.
The group began a low prayer lead by Arquen. This whispered chant quickly increased in pitch, causing the statue shifted backwards, revealing steps. Carefully Lana followed the group of murderers, her mind focused on how these final moments would play out.
At the bottom of the crypt stood a series of carve pillars, with a dais in the center along the south wall. At the top of this wall sat a sarcophagus of thick metal, with intricate carvings on it. Before the tomb stood an alter with the bodies of five infants on it. Each infant had long ago rotted too bones, cracks coming from thick dents in their skulls.
Taken by the idea of destroying her children in honor of Sithis, Lana felt a terrible shiver move up in her spine. Her fingers tingled at the thought of holding something so soft and defenseless in her hands only to dash it on the stones. The sensation felt like an orgasm but more intense and terrible than anything a man had ever given her. With her hands twisted like claws she moved towards the tomb and fell in reverence, the lips that had kissed Lucien's dead face now kissing the bottom of the sarcophagus that held the Night Mother.
"My dear, I will need you to stand back."
Following Arquen's orders, Lana listened to another chant, her eyes fixated on Mathieu, who crept closer and closer to the sarcophagus, excited by the prospect of his revenge soon to come. Once Arquen had finished her benediction, the doors to the tomb pulled open, and dust billowed out and rolled into the room like an unsteadying myst. The smell of deathbells filled the air, causing Lana to tear up, before the dried corpse of the Night Mother came into sight.
Disappointed to find only a shriveled body, Lana positioned her hand over her dagger and drew a bead on Mathieu - who had stepped back to stand with the other Speakers. A flicker of light came from the open doors and the Night Mother began to glow. Soon another figure materialized and walked away from the others, leaving the corpse behind. Transparent and impressive, the ghostly image hovered over her, cupping Lana's face.
"Lucien died serving Sithis, my child. He rests with the Dread Lord, worry not. Unfortunately the fools around you will not know the void, unless my husband's betrayer is slaughtered soon."
Stepping aside, the Night Mother turned to look at Mathieu, who returned her glare before pulling his knife and thrusting it into one Speakers neck. Before anyone could react, he kicked the body from his blade and finished the other man with his knife. Pulling another blade from his belt, he moved towards the corpse of the Night Mother. "Mommy, I will have my revenge!"
Half expecting this, Lana grasped her knife and sent it flying into Mathieu's back. The traitor stumbled backwards, turning to look at her with wild eyes. "For Lucien," she whispered. With hatred in his gaze the cretin lifted his dagger as if he would return the insult, when a fireball from Arquen extinguished his life.
The simplicity of Mathieu's death left Lana feeling empty. Years of cunning and betrayal left her alone and pregnant, with an organization of killers to rebuild. Arquen stepped forward to speak with the Night Mother, the response being a series of condemnations that Lana largely ignored. That a man like Mathieu Bellamont could walk among the ranks of her family undetected, spoke to horrible incompetency.
When the Night Mother finished berating Arquen for her foolishness she once again turned to Lana, who silently lifted her chin in acknowledgement. A spectral hand landed on her stomach and Lanna gasped for breath as cold shot through her body. A smile spread across the Dread Lady's face, jagged and wild like a saber tooth cat.
"Not this one, Lana Sullivan. Any children you have after him, dash them against the rocks, or keep them, it doesn't matter. But not the child of Lucien LaChance. Sithis saw you generations ago, saw the offspring that will result from your union. The Dark Lord has need of you and your child Lana, so cry no more. Come, be my Listener and fix the Dark Brotherhood for the better."
Nodding yes, brought the predatory smile to the face of the spirit. Gracefully the Night Mother turned and climbed the dais to her tomb, her skirts flickering blue and green reflections on the wall as she moved. Standing before the corpse that held her in life, the woman nodded. "Then it let be. Our future rests in your hands, my child. Prove your worth and save us from your predecessor's decay."
Not needing a response, the Dread Matron dissipated into the air. The room grew darker with her leaving and the torches flickered as the doors to her Sarcophagus slammed shut. Lana's fingers ran along her hip and caressed her stomach where she'd been touched. A cough brought her gaze up from contemplation and she beheld Arquen waiting for orders.
"Listener." The Mer placed her hand at her chest and bowed.
"Fool," Lana responded. "Get out of my sight. Restart the sanctuary in Cheydinhal l while I look for Speakers to replace the dead. Have no contact with me unless I send for you. Your years in the job and the Night Mother's mercy are the only reasons you still draw breath."
Gathering her cloak, Arquen said nothing as she hurried out of the tomb, leaving Lana alone. Listening to make sure no one would return, she crossed the room and sat at the base of the alter. Picking up the bone of a child, she twirled it between her fingers before reaching overhead and setting it down on the stonework. Glancing at the glyphs surrounding her, Lana's mind reeled with everything that happened, before covering her face with her hands to prevent crying. As one final tear fell for Lucien she felt comforting fingers to sweep through her hair - her true mother to assure her things would be fine.
So that's it. On to my Skyrim fic. I hope you liked it. Leave me a comment please, it encourages me to keep going.